Hell's Bells
by EchoLoco
Summary: Nanao gets into a little trouble when she dresses up like Kenpachi for a Shinigami Women's Association project. Of course, trouble always seems to happen whenever Yachiru and Shunsui are involved. UPDATE: Now with more chapters and characters.
1. Practice

Author's Note:  
A) I don't own Bleach.  
B) This is just a silly little drabble, ShunsuiXNanao, plus appearances from what I think are some of the funniest characters in Bleach: Zaraki and Yachiru.

* * *

Nanao had been surprised at first that she didn't have to slow down so the pink blur beside her could keep up. In the decades that they had been leaders together, however, she had learned better.

Yachiru ate enough candy in an hour to keep an entire division moving at breakneck speed for a week.

"But Nana-chan!" the little girl argued, scurrying along beside Nanao's purposeful strides. "I can get Bya-kun's pictures for the yearbook! Remember what a good job I did last time, huh?!"

"I don't doubt it, Kusajishi-san," Nanao replied, trying to be diplomatic. Trying, actually, not to press a hand to her forehead in exasperation. "It's just that I'd like someone else to assist you with it."

"I can do it myself!" Yachiru tried to look back at Nanao, but turning her little frame while walking made her rolling zanpakuto twist, and Yachiru tumbled into what looked like a pile of cotton candy.

Nanao audibly sighed this time. _What is it about that color that makes people act ridiculous?_ She bent to offer Yachiru a hand.

"I can do it myself!" Yachiru repeated, bouncing up quickly. "I don't want to work with Fish-Paste-chan!"

Nanao grimaced at the disrespectful nickname. Isane couldn't help dreaming about fish paste any more than Nanao could help dreaming about Kyo... well, it wasn't the girl's fault.

"Nemu?" Nanao suggested hopefully. She knew that Yachiru liked spending time scheming with Nemu, and what was more, Nemu actually seemed to like spending time with the hyperactive little girl. Perhaps it took that kind of exuberance to draw the quiet researcher out of her shell.

"Clown-chan says she's grounded this week," the girl pouted, "She smiled at the 'speriments."

Nanao had to suppress a chuckle at Yachiru's comment. She allowed herself to frown at the cause of the 12th Division lieutenant's unavailability, however. It was sad how repressed her "father" kept her.

"What about Soifon-Taicho?"

"Ninja-Lady's mean," Yachiru replied nonchalantly. "Ken-chan can help, though."

"Well, it's just that Ken-ch... Kenpachi-Taicho might not be the best one to help out with this project." Nanao kicked herself mentally for almost slipping up and using Yachiru's nickname for her captain. The girl's cutesy speech-style was obnoxiously contagious.

"What's wrong with Ken-chan helping?" Yachiru looked up at Nanao, stopping first this time so as not to trip. Her eyes were wide with confusion, and Nanao thought she looked light she might cry if she said the wrong thing. She knew better, though. Yachiru didn't cry when she thought someone had insulted her Ken-chan... she did much, much worse. Nanao still had a little scar on her ankle from when Yachiru bit her the first, and last, time she had made that mistake.

"Well, Kusaj..."

"Chiru-chan!" Yachiru interrupted.

_Good grief,_ thought Nanao, _she's even nicknaming herself now._

"Well, Chiru-chan, it's just that it might be hard to get a good picture since Kenpachi's hair is so tall. The bells might get in the way, ne?"

"I like Ken-chan's bells!" Yachiru giggled, shaking her head as if to ring invisible bells in her own hair.

"We all like his bells," Nanao bluffed, "but we also like getting to see Kuchiki-Taicho's face in his pictures too."

Yachiru looked thoughtful for a moment. Nanao found the expression disturbing.

"Mmmkay... how 'bout we practice, Nana-chan?!"

"Pardon?"

"Your hair is kind of spiky in the back like Ken-chan's!" Yachiru enthused, clambering onto Nanao's shoulder. "I can put some bells on it and practice taking pictures so then I can go with Ken-chan and know how to get it right!"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Ku... Chiru-chan."

"Okay. I won't practice then!" Yachiru started to climb down.

"Wait, Yachiru," Nanao said. She sighed in resignation.

~*~*~*~

A few hours later, Nanao was making a distinct jingling sound as she wandered around Seireitei, the sound of a camera shutter adding to the clamor around her head. There was so much unusual noise that Nanao didn't notice the additional jingling noises coming up behind her.

"...The hell?!" boomed a menacing baritone. The ground seemed to shake as Nanao turned to see Zaraki bending over her, glaring at her interestingly-adorned hair. She let out a surprised squeak.

_Oh dear gods, please let him not think I'm mocking him._

"Ken-chan!" Yachiru shouted in Nanao's ear. The noise was accompanied by a camera flash. If Zaraki's uncontrolled reiatsu hadn't made her dizzy, the sights and sounds were sure doing a good job of it. Or maybe it was the fact that it was late afternoon and she hadn't had a chance to eat anything that day yet.

_Maybe it's the weird pink weight on one side of me,_ she mused, starting to topple over.

Kenpachi suddenly found himself with an armful of fukutaicho, Ise-fukutaicho caught in the crook of his arm, and his own lieutenant scrambling up the same arm to his shoulder like a squirrel from tree to tree. The stern vice-captain of the Eighth didn't seem the girlish fainting type, but then again, she didn't seem the type to wear bells in her hair either. He knew it probably wasn't a good idea to leave her lying in the courtyard where he had found them, but he wasn't sure what to do.

"Look, Ken-chan, it's Nana-chan's nap time!" Yachiru cheered from her new perch. "I bet it's Shun-Shun's nap time too. Maybe she's 'sposed to have nap-time with Shun-Shun! If we take her back, I can practice getting pictures of Shun-Shun and Nana-chan!"

"Practice?" Zaraki nearly growled. Yachiru was unfazed. He wasn't angry, it was just the way he talked.

"Yep! Nana-chan put the bells on so I could practice taking pictures like it was you, Ken-chan! Isn't that a great idea?!"

"Whatever."

~*~*~*~

Shunsui shifted groggily. He had been having a nice enough dream about his pretty little lieutenant when the sound of bells reached his mind. The terrifying prospect of dreaming about the bell-wearing captain of Eleventh was enough to bring him mostly out of a sleeping state, though not much else could.

He was pretty sure he was awake now, but he felt a strange pressure on his chest. The kind of slight pressure he might have experienced in the presence of uncontained reiatsu. What if he hadn't been dreaming about Zaraki?

His eyes flew open. Unsure of what they were seeing, he shut them tight and opened them again. Nanao's face was in front of his own, which was strange because he was laying on the sofa in their division's office. And because her face was framed by little bells attached to her upswept hair.

_Shit, _he thought, _this has got to be the weirdest... most wonderful... frightening... dream... nightmare... Okay, Shunsui, no more sake in the afternoon._

The vision of Nanao groaned and moved a hand to its head, and the reality of the situation struck Kyouraku. Knowing his lieutenant would freak out at the sight of their current position, her stretched across his reclined frame, he tried to sit up. This had the unfortunate effect of waking Nanao entirely, and she shrieked.

"Taicho!" She sprang off the sofa, and her captain, and nearly tripped over a low table. Shunsui caught her arm as she wavered.

"Easy there, Nanao-chan."

His voice held the same deep, lazy tone and tempo as always, but after centuries of hearing it, Nanao knew it was laced with concern and confusion. For good reason - she had no idea what was going on, either.

"Taicho, I'm sorry, I don't know how..."

"Hey, easy," he repeated. Nanao looked down to see his hand still wrapped gently but firmly around her wrist. She pulled her hand free, blushing furiously, and ran a hand through her hair to calm herself down.

She felt little bits of metal.

"Kuso," she muttered under her breath, yanking the bells out of her hair.

"Yare, Nanao-chan, language!" Kyouraku chuckled. It was a rare pleasure to hear his vice-captain flustered enough to let down her guard and curse.

"Sir, I just woke up in the arms of my _captain_, dressed like the Eleventh's captain, with no idea how I got there. I think my language was entirely appropriate!"

She blushed again, eyes wide, the first half of her statement dawning on her.

"I didn't know my Nanao-chan was into that kind of thing," Shunsui remarked suggestively.

The comment earned him a frustrated scream and a face full of tiny metal bells.

~*~*~*~

Shunsui's next chance to hear his fukutaicho curse was three weeks later, when the annual Seireitei yearbook came out, and the cover featured the events of that afternoon... although with more bells.


	2. Rumors

Note: I tossed out another chapter for what was supposed to be a one-shot, and there's at least one more on the way with more Yachiru and maybe some Hisagi.

* * *

Nanao sighed as she looked at the cover of the yearbook for what must have been the hundredth time.

There it was, in all its glory, looking more like some cheap gossip magazine than the respectable publication it had been in the past under Unohana's watchful eye. Of course, the Fourth had been very busy lately, the lead-up to the war with Aizen resulting in more Hollow activity and some skirmishes with minor, but deadly, Arrancar.

Unohana was very busy. Hisagi, the vice-president of the yearbook committee, was focused on keeping his captain-less squad in order. And so the task of picking the cover image had fallen to Yachiru of all people, if only because she had the free time and enthusiasm.

Yachiru also had the picture of Nanao, bedecked in bells, asleep on top of her captain, and now all of Seireitei had it as well.

She kept pulling out her desk drawer so she could look at it, just for the satisfaction of slamming it shut again a moment later. This whole project had been nothing but trouble from the start...

~*~*~*~ Two months earlier ~*~*~*~

Matsumoto tossed herself back on the sofa dramatically.

Nanao thought the behavior reminded her of Kyouraku-Taicho. "Really, Matsu, you're acting like a child."

"Well, you're treating me like one," Rangiku pouted, sitting back up.

"I am treating everyone alike. Nobody gets to see the whole yearbook ahead of schedule, not even myself. Besides the division group pictures, I haven't seen anything that you haven't seen."

"But you could," Matsumoto tried to reason.

_Good heavens, _Nanao thought,_ I finally get Taicho out of the office and in storms his personality double. Well, at least she won't try to flirt with me._

"I could make it worth your while," the buxom blonde continued, leaning seductively forward on the sofa and winking at Nanao.

_Or maybe she would. _Nanao felt an eye twitch behind her glasses, the motion causing them to slide down her nose. She pushed them back into place, deciding to nip this in the bud.

"Rangiku! You are my dearest friend, but I am not going to break into the office of what is very likely the most powerful woman in Soul Society just so you can have first go at the gossip column."

There. She knew Matsumoto, much like her own captain, would continue to wheedle her if she played the responsibility card. So she went for the authority angle, and since it wasn't her authority, her friend couldn't really question it.

Sighing, Rangiku headed for the office door. "Oh well, I have other ways of getting gossip."

Or making it.

~*~*~*~

"Good morning, darling Nanao-chan!" Kyouraku sang out as he breezed into the office.

"It's 1:47 in the afternoon," Nanao replied tersely, her eyes not moving from the form they were skimming before signing her captain's name to it. She knew without looking that it was 1:47 because she had looked at the clock not two minutes before, noted that it was quarter to two, and mentally begun counting down to the punctual, though untimely, entrance of Kyouraku-Taicho. He always showed up within ten minutes of two o'clock, unless it was Friday, when his appearance at all constituted a small miracle.

"So it it is," Shunsui said, not missing a beat. "Wait 'til you hear the scandalous rumor I just heard from Ran-san!"

"I will wait to hear it, sir, until I am done with my work."

"But Nanao-chan! You're never done with your work!"

"Precisely, taicho." Nanao looked up at him, hoping her serious expression would warn him not to trifle with her until her paperwork was finished. She could feel a headache forming behind her eyes. "So unless you intend to help me with it..."

Shunsui plopped himself down on the couch, seeming to pout. A few minutes passed before he started humming some absurd drinking song. She had heard him sing it when he was drunk once, and she was very glad he had not included the rather bawdy lyrics this time. He flipped himself onto his stomach, trailing an arm back and forth across the wood floors.

_Oh no._

_He's bored. _

Within moments of this realization, Shunsui was approaching her desk. Nanao readied her fan, ready to strike the second his hand passed the invisible barrier she defined as her space. It never did. He took a stack of papers from her inbox at the corner of her desk, looked distastefully at them, and took them over to the table in front of the sofa.

He was back at her desk then, beside her this time, and she was about to scold him when he opened her desk drawer and helped himself to a pen.

Sitting down again, he proceeded to sign the first form with a flourish, then suck on the end of her pen.

"Taicho, I've asked you not to do that to my pens!" she exclaimed in dismay.

"Hmm..." he muttered, reading a form with a perplexed look on his face. And a pen still in his mouth.

"Kyouraku-Taicho! Get my pen out of your mouth!"

Startled, he looked up at her. "Why, Nanao-chan?"

"I don't like it when people suck on my things!"

"Are you sure, lovely Nanao-chan?" he drawled suggestively. He chuckled when Nanao blushed, then slammed a fist on her desk, making her ink well jump dangerously. She had been doing that more and more lately - blushing, and making little slips of conversation that gave him opportunities to make her blush. He figured it was because she was more stressed than usual with some big SWA project she wouldn't talk about. Hence, the modest stack of paperwork in front of him - he figured it was the least he could do (and he was very likely right in that assumption).

Nanao sighed heavily. She was not going to get anything done if he kept making comments like that, so she decided to give up the fight today and make a compromise.

"Taicho," she began, trying to sound more like an imposing professional than an embarrassed school-girl, "If you promise to refrain from saying such things for the rest of the day, I will allow you to tell me your silly rumor."

"Ah, there's the agreeable fukutaicho I love!" Shunsui exclaimed, smiling broadly at her, papers all but forgotten. "Well, it's like this..."

_"Abarai-san, you are no longer allowed to train with Kuchiki Rukia without a chaperone."_

_"With all due respect, sir, I don't understand why we'd need supervision. No one was hurt."_

_"It is not a matter of safety, it is a matter of propriety."_

_"There was nothing improper about it, I swear! It's not like I showed it to her on purpose!"_

_"Regardless of your intentions, Rukia saw it. Which means that you were not doing a satisfactory job of containing it."_

_"It's hard to contain it in a situation like that!"_

_"Which is exactly why you need a chaperone who can remind you of what constitutes appropriate training. I will not have a member of the Kuchiki family exposed to that kind of display."_

_"But Kuchiki-Taicho!"_

_"This conversation is over."_

"So that's what Ran-san said she heard."

Nanao slid another form onto the "finished" pile as Shunsui finished the story. Matsumoto had a gift for creating outrageous gossip just by taking a phrase or two out of context. This time, however, she had latched onto something particularly juicy in that the truth of the situation was indeed a little inappropriate.

Ise had heard the real story from Kiyone at the SWA meeting earlier that week, who had overheard Ukitake discussing it with Rukia.

Nanao was not one to indulge in gossip, but neither was she one to let a half-truth about someone go floating around behind their back. She decided to set her captain straight on the details, somewhat surprised he hadn't heard it from Ukitake already.

"I'm sure Matsumoto-san heard exactly what she said, but I doubt she understood it. What I'm sure you've been led to understand was an act of indecency by Abarai-Fukutaicho was perhaps too personal or initimate, but was in no way indecent. Sir."

"I'm glad you can be so liberal about it, Nanao-chan."

"Sir, he only showed her his zanpakuto."

"Which is precisely the conclusion I'd come to."

Nanao sighed. Her captain really was insufferable.

"Literally, sir. Abarai-fukutaicho showed Kuchiki-san the manifestation of his sword while they were training together, something which her brother found entirely too personal for the circumstance. As I'm _sure_ you're aware, it is rather uncustomary for a senpai to show his kohai their sword's true form in the course of training, but despite Matsumoto's insinuations, that's all that happened."

"It's uncustomary for any shinigami to show someone their sword's true form," Shunsui corrected her, sounding entirely too reasonable. "Renji finally got up the nerve to get a little personal with Kuchiki's kid sister. Good for him. Carrying a torch like that for so long, I'm surprised he didn't spontaneously combust."

"Good for him - right," Nanao muttered under her breath. She hadn't intended for Shunsui to hear, but he did.

"Yare, yare, Nanao-chan! What's wrong with a little harmless romance in the ranks?"

"It's exactly that, sir - ranks. She's not even a seated officer! It's inappropriate."

"That girl should have been seated years ago," Shunsui retorted, "As it is, Juu would have her for a lieutenant if Byakuya-kun would let him. But if Renji can get her to do bankai, her brother won't have a whole lot of say if 46 wants her promoted to captain."

He paused for a minute. "Not that it matters at all," he added, pointedly.

Nanao did not miss his attempt at subtlety. The comment was wasted on her, however. Rank and propriety wouldn't be such an issue if the captain in question had any notion of tact or discretion. She shook the thought from her head, not liking where such thoughts inevitably led. Trying to focus, she turned back to her papers.

"So, Nanao-chan," Shunsui said after a few moments of silence. Grinning, he hooked a thumb into the obi tied around his hakama, where Katen Kyoukotsu hung. "Do you wanna see mine?"

"We had a deal!" Nanao shouted, tossing the nearest object she could find at her captain's head. The book hit its target forcefully.

_No wonder she doesn't use her zanpakuto, with aim like that,_ Shunsui mused. Rubbing his sore head, he bent over the papers on the table penitently and didn't dare to say another word until he left.

~*~*~*~

When Nanao was sorting his work back into her own files at the end of the day, she noticed something doodled on the back of a form. Turning it over, she found a rough drawing of a nue kissing a female chappy bunny, the nue's tail groping the cartoon bunny quite inappropriately.

Well, there was an image that would haunt her forever.

However, since she didn't have a duplicate of the form on hand and it was due tomorrow, it would just have to haunt the First Division as well.

Two months later, it somehow showed up in the art section of the yearbook, and haunted every poor soul in Seireitei.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Feel free to review; I enjoy constructive criticism and would love to hear what folks think of my first ShunsuiXNanao fic.


	3. Introductions

**Author's Note: I decided to expand on the Zabimaru incident. I have a concept in mind for some hijinks involving Hisagi and Yachiru, and I think I want to end it on a Shunsui and Nanao note, but we'll see what I have the time or attention span for.**  


* * *

"Did you _see_ the yearbook, Renji?!" Rukia shrieked, the normally calm girl red with exasperation.

"Huh?" Renji replied, leaning lazily against the wall of the Thirteenth Division's mess hall. "Oh yeah, with the picture of the Eigth's fukutaicho practically jumping her captain? Funny stuff." He paused to pick something out of his teeth. "Except for the part where she had her hair done like Kenpachi's. That's some scary shit."

Rukia punched him forcefully in the hip and he nearly slid down the wall. "Not that part, stupid!" She flipped open her copy of the yearbook and held it in front of his face.

Pushing his sunglasses up onto his head, he looked at the page Rukia showed him. There was a cartoon animal that looked suspiciously like his Zabimaru, except for the bright red stripes instead of blue. And that cartoon animal was making out with a petite white Chappy Bunny, complete with big blue eyes and a shock of black hair.

"Looks like Zabimaru," Renji remarked nonchalantly.

"Right! And just what is Zabimaru doing with that bunny?!" Rukia shook the yearbook in his face.

"Having a good time, from the looks of things," he retorted.

"With a Chappy Bunny that looks like…"

"Ya jealous?" Renji interrupted her line of thought. "Because bunnies aren't really Zabimaru's thing. He's sorta into a certain snowy owl, if you know what I mean." He looked meaningfully at the sword slung in Rukia's obi.

"Ww…wait," she stuttered, "How did you know Shirayuki was an owl?"

"Yare, Rukia, you think that Zabimaru and Shirayuki can cross blades without getting to know each other a little? It's hardly polite to not introduce yourself to your opponent."

Rukia pouted silently for a moment, disgruntled that Renji had to point out something so simple to her.

"Well, you didn't have to introduce Zabimaru to me like you did," she finally muttered.

"I thought you'd want to meet the one who was going to help you achieve bankai," Renji said. Rukia thought he looked a little hurt, and suddenly felt guilty. "Besides," he added quickly, acting indifferent, "Zabimaru wanted to meet _you_, so what difference does it make what you want?"

"Well, Nii-sama didn't like it, and it seems he's not the only one who found out," Rukia explained, trying to make up for hurting Renji's feelings even though she didn't quite understand how she had accomplished it.

"Is there anything Kuchiki-taichou _does_ like?" he replied.

"Renji! He's just looking out for me. It was a little improper to manifest your zanpakuto in the training room in front of everybody."

"Oh, come on. You were the only one who could actually see him."

"Idiot," she retorted. Somehow she managed to make it sound like an endearment. "Everyone could tell what was going on, like when humans see Hollow outlines. So, next time, just don't do it in public."

"Next time, huh?" Renji raised a detailed eyebrow. "What makes you think there's going to be a next time when you didn't want to meet him in the first place?"

"Renji," Rukia looked at the ground, penitent. "I never said that. I just think it was maybe not the proper way to make introductions, okay?"

Renji crossed his arms across his chest. "So what's the _proper_ way, then?"

Rukia looked around the mess hall, empty since lunch was over and dinner was not for several hours. "Well…"

Drawing her zanpakuto, Rukia held it in front of her. "Sode no Shirayuki," she whispered. The hilt slowly turned white as if it was being frozen from the inside, a white ribbon dancing on an artificial wind. The same wind swept back from the sword towards Rukia, fluttering her hair, and the white wings of a bird perched on her shoulder. It was pristine white, with ripples of darkest black at the tips of its feathers, and two deep black eyes in fields of piercing blue. Tufted white legs ended in graceful but deadly-looking grey claws gently gripping Rukia's shoulder. Shirayuki cocked her head to the side, studying Renji intensely.

Rukia followed her zanpakuto spirit's gaze to Renji, but unlike her confident sword, she looked a little embarrassed, as if she had just undressed for him.

"Abarai-dono, meet Shirayuki-sama." The bird kept remarkable balance as the girl bowed.

Renji was dumbfounded for a moment. He was the one who was known around Soul Society for being something of an exhibitionist. He was the one who walked around in his bathrobe, used his skin as a showcase for his accomplishments, and let his zanpakuto manifest itself whenever it suited Zabimaru. He was a little shocked to see Rukia's sword spirit standing before him. Even though she had told him immediately when she discovered her sword's nature and name, she had never in their long years of friendship shown him Shirayuki's true form.

"Hajimemashite," he said, remembering himself and bowing. "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."

Silently, the owl turned its head towards Rukia. After a minute, the petite shinigami nodded.

"Shirayuki-sama asks if she may be allowed the honor of formally meeting Zabimaru-dono."

Renji grinned. Even Rukia's zanpakuto was proper and refined. Drawing Zabimaru from its sheath, he held it level in front of him and spoke its name as the blade flashed red and formed spiked sections.

The nue form stepped out from behind Renji, standing tall with shoulders squared, but not seeming haughty. Both heads bowed politely towards the snowy owl. He was surprised at the quietness of his normally verbose sword spirit, even though he knew zanpakuto only spoke directly to their wielders. He spoke for his sword.

"Kuchiki-san, meet Zabimaru."

~*~*~*~

Ukitake nearly dropped the copy of the Shinigami Annual Yearbook that Shunsui had brought for him in a panic as he felt his most powerful subordinate's reiatsu surge into the release form of her zanpakuto. He was about to get up to go check on Rukia when he felt a similar surge he knew to belong to her particular friend, Renji Abarai.

He didn't know what the manifestation of Abarai's zanpakuto looked like, but if he was taking this interesting picture of a black-haired Chappy as a guide, he guessed it might be some sort of baboon.

Ukitake smiled to himself and went back to reading what was certainly the most interesting yearbook since fukutaicho Yadomaru and Kuna had appeared, kissing, on the cover.

* * *

**Feel free to let me know what you think, or what you'd like to see. I can't promise I'll use suggestions, but everyone's in this crazy yearbook, so there's a chance I can fit in a bit about certain characters or goings-on. **


	4. Revenge

Something brushing against her face woke Nanao up. A Hell Butterfly fluttered above her, only the red edges of its wings visible in the darkened room. She sleepily listened to its report.

A few minutes later, she had thrown a simple yukata hastily on, and was running through the streets to Squad Nine's headquarters. Her black hair streamed behind her in the simple braid she kept it in at night. She hadn't had time to tie it back; the Hell Butterfly had reported an emergency. Her bare feet slapped the pavement.

"Nemu?" muttered a tall, sleepy-looking Shinigami as Nanao ran down the street.

"Isane-fukutaicho?!" the dark-haired woman exclaimed, sliding to a stop. "What are you doing?"

"Nemu-chan, I don't _want_ to be buried in Setsubun beans for your experiment!" Isane replied, staring dreamily off into the distance.

Nanao sighed and summoned the Hell Butterfly that had been trailing her since she ran out of her division. "Report to Unohana-taicho that her subordinate is sleepwalking near Ninth Division," she told it, knowing better than to attempt waking the girl. Then she continued on her way.

Going through the back door of the office, she found Hisagi amidst what looked like an explosion. She couldn't help breaking into a grin, and in a moment she was laughing good-naturedly. Hisagi, along with the rest of the room, was covered in black ink.

"This is your big emergency?!"

Hisagi scowled, though Ise could hardly tell, his face was so covered in ink. "It's not funny! I was supposed to have the Communication printed three hours ago, but the press broke, and when I tried to fix it…" He flailed his arms helplessly, indicating the vastness of the disaster.

"What do you want me to do, tattoo it onto you and send you around to every squad?" Nanao waved her arms in a gesture of exasperation.

"I want you to quit being such a sassy nuisance and help me fix it!"

"What do I know about printing presses? I just file reports and write captions!"

"You don't have to know anything about anything," Shuuhei retorted, "I just need an extra set of hands."

"Couldn't you have found a set of hands that wasn't asleep?"

"Shut up and help me un-jam this mechanism!"

Ise sighed, and amused by the absurdity of the situation, knelt by the printer to help her friend with his squad's assigned duties. After all, her skill with paperwork had caused him to seek her help with the Seireitei Communication newsletter quite often, though usually she only did copy editing. Rolling her light grey sleeves past her elbows, she seized the spring Hisagi indicated while he tugged at something which had gotten caught between the gears.

He held up a lollipop, dripping a sticky, purple ooze of ink, sugar, and spit. "Yachiru! If I ever get my hands on that little…!"

Nanao grimaced at the disgusting treat. "Not much chance of that, with Kenpachi around. Still, someone needs to teach that little spaz a lesson... I have a score to settle with her myself."

Hisagi dropped the candy on a loose piece of paper and reached for the spring Nanao had been holding. He attached it back on its hook, and started to tighten the gears back up with a screwdriver. Suddenly, there was a creaking noise, and a small gear flew out in a shower of ink.

"Kuso!" they both cursed in unison, Hisagi with a ninja mask of ink, and Ise with dalmatian spots on her yukata, and ink dripping from the frames of her glasses.

The next day, Nanao looked a lot like her squad's copy of the Seireitei Communications, mottled with ink. A hand raised threatingly to her glasses had prevented anyone besides Kyouraku-taicho from commenting on it, however. After lunch, she knew Yachiru's usual accomplice, Nemu, would be at Captain Unohana's Flower Arranging Club. She met a similarly mottled Hisagi at the entrance to the Research and Development laboratory. He grinned conspiratorially.

A few hours later, Nanao approached Yachiru as she rode her little scooter around their squad's courtyard.

"Fukutaicho!" She held up a lollipop, swirled with blue and green. "I was over at Twelfth Squad earlier; they've been working on some new sweets. I told them you might like to help them test it?"

Yachiru clapped in delight. "Hai! Mochiron!" Her grin was as saccharin as the candy Nanao was offering, and the older lieutenant almost felt a little bad about what she was about to do. Almost. Yachiru took the lollipop, tore the wrapper off with deft little fingers, and proceeded to pop the rather large disc into her mouth.

Smiling broadly around her new snack, she waved enthusiastically and sped off on her scooter, her zanpakuto rolling along beside her.

The next time the conspirators saw Yachiru was at the Vice-Captain's meeting that evening. It was worth the wait to see the little lieutenant's black teeth and lips as she prattled on about some idea or other. Nanao and Shuuhei had gotten their very poetic revenge, thanks to some help from Research and Development. After the meeting, they were even more delighted with the unexpected side effect – the similarly black teeth and lips of Eleventh Squad's captain. Apparently, Yachiru had been sharing her snacks. Of course, they both knew better than to laugh about it in front of them now that Kenpachi had fallen victim to their prank. Hisagi sighed, hoping he could maintain his restraint through the captain's meeting that he also had to attend that evening.


	5. Display

**Author's Note: Okay, we're back to Shunsui and Nanao! And while one day in the far future, a whim may compel me to add more, I'm going to say this is it for now. School's out next week and I have summer plans to attend to, and a Nanao-Jushiro story to wrap up.**

Something looked different about the office. Nanao looked around, suspicious. There was a large stack of papers and related paperwork supplies on her desk, and a small book, a pair of scissors, and a bottle of sake on her captain's desk. There was a window open, allowing a few of the last sakura petals of the season to drift in. Despite the natural decoration they added, there was a vase of red flowers on a table near the sofa, where more red and pink flowers graced the haori of a dozing Shunsui Kyouraku.

Next to the flowers on the table was a framed copy of the cover of the yearbook. Nanao's face looked remarkably peaceful in the photo, a stark contrast to the face of the photo's likeness. Nanao let out a frustrated sigh and reached to seize the framed reminder of the embarrassment she had faced in the week since the yearbook came out.

A hand on her wrist stopped her.

"Yare yare, Nanao-chan, it isn't proper to take things that belong to others."

Nanao blushed furiously and yanked her arm away before a certain little pink-haired sneak could appear out of nowhere with a camera.

"It isn't proper to keep such a picture in a place of business, _sir_," she retorted.

Shunsui sat up, leaning over to look at the magazine cover. "I think it's entirely proper to have a picture of the squad's leaders in the squad office," he mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The twitching corners of his lips belied the seriousness in his voice.

"If it was just a picture of us, I wouldn't mind," Nanao said, crossing her arms over her book, "But that picture… It looks like… like I'm… _molesting_ you or something!"

Shunsui had never had to try so hard to maintain a poker face, but then again, his prim lieutenant had never said such a thing before. He was ready to burst out laughing, but he wanted to see how far he could push this conversation, so he just looked down until he was sure he could speak with a straight face.

"That's not what you molesting me would look like, my feisty Nanao-chan. Believe me, I've pictured it more than once." He donned a lecherous smirk, and Nanao took it upon herself to remove it with a swipe of her fan. Reaching up to touch the area on his face that was now as red as Nanao's flushed cheeks, he grinned again. "Well, if you disagree so strongly, perhaps you could demonstrate how you think it would look."

Nanao huffed, and slamming the frame face-forward onto the table, she turned to leave. She didn't get very far.

Shunsui grabbed her by the hips and turned her towards him, and as he did, Nanao let out a squeak of surprise.

"Taicho!"

"Nanao-chan."

The look in his face was now dead serious, and Nanao had known him long enough to know that he wasn't making an effort to make it so. This wasn't a poker face.

Frankly, she would have preferred the "dirty old man" grin, as she called it.

"To be honest, Nanao-chan," he told her, "The only thing I have ever imagined regarding you was how glorious a stormy purple sunset would look framing those violet eyes of yours. If you find that unsavory, then I'm sorry, but I'm going to picture those eyes in my dreams until the day I die." He broke his serious mask with a sheepish grin. "Again, that is."

He let his hands drop from his lieutenant's hips, reached around to set the frame back on its stand, and lay back on the couch, pulling his hat over his eyes.

"You can do what you like with the picture," he told her in an indifferent tone, "I prefer you without the Zaraki bells anyway."

Nanao stood by the sofa, shocked, for a good five minutes before she took the frame, stashed it in her captain's desk drawer (hunting her the handle under a layer of dust), and stalked out of the office, her face still in flames.


	6. Candid

**Author's Note: Okay, so I'm out of school for a few weeks between terms and got an idea for another chapter. We interrupt this supposed ShunXNanao one-shot (wow, did this fic ever get away from me!) to bring you a word from the UnoUki pairing.  
**

* * *

"Really, Ukitake-sama..."

"Retsu-san, how many times have I asked you to call me Juushirou?"

"Juushirou-san, you really don't have to do this."

"Nonsense. You take care of me when I am ill, and I'm sure that is a much greater debt than I can repay."

"It's my job to take care of you, Juushirou-san."

"It's not your job, however, to take notes at the meetings for me, to bring me that wonderful sencha tea you know I like so much, or to read to me. I intend to do all these things for you while you are ill, Retsu-san."

"I'm hardly ill, Juushirou! It's just a little cold."

"It's not just a little cold if it can not only infect the most gifted healer in Soul Society, but also make her drop an honorific."

"Oh dear! I'm so sorry, Uki..."

"Retsu! How many hundreds of years have we been friends? And throughout all of them, I've asked you not to be so formal with me."

"But Juu..." Unohana's protest was interrupted by a sharp cough. Ukitake held out a handkerchief to the ailing captain, one hand resting gently on her shoulder as she sputtered and shook.

She had done it for him more than once.

"No buts," Ukitake told her. "You can call me by my first name, without the honorific if it suits you, but only when it won't strain your voice to do so. Now just lie down and take a rest while I make some tea."

"Hai, Juushirou-san," Unohana choked out meekly.

She lay back on Ukitake's sofa, and he thought she looked lovely with her braid resting regally along her chest. It soon started quaking, however, as Unohana's coughing worsened.

"Retsu..." Ukitake murmured, leaving the teapot unattended so he could help Unohana roll over onto her side.

"I'm fine, Juushirou-san. I just couldn't breathe, laying on my back like that."

"You won't be able to breathe on your side either, it seems," Ukitake chuckled, brushing her braid back from where it was trying to fall over her face. "Here, let me fix it."

"Oh no, it's quite alright."

"Nonsense, Retsu. You're my patient today, and it's my turn to tell you what's good for you even if you don't like it."

He smiled softly as he reached for the end of the long braid and pulled the tie free.

"Juushirou-san," Unohana muttered reproachfully. Ukitake's hands stilled, thinking she was reprimanding him for taking such a liberty with her hair. "You know I only tell you what's in your best interest when you're in my care."

He grinned and went back to unlacing the braid, running his fingers through as he went to smooth the strands of hair. "I'm sure, but if I never have to drink another drop of that horrid tonic you insist on giving me, I'd be a happy man."

"You're always happiest when you're healthy, Juushirou-san. So you'll keep taking that _restorative_ tonic when I insist on giving it to you."

"Hai, Retsu," he responded. Finished with the braid, he draped her long, black hair over her shoulder and out of her face. Able to rest on her side without being smothered by her own hair, Unohana's coughing fit subsided and her breaths quickly settled into a raspy but even rhythm as she dozed off.

Ukitake knelt by her side until he was quite sure she was sleeping peacefully before returning to the neglected tea. Sniffing it, he grimaced as he noticed that the green tea had been left too long and had become bitter. He walked to the window to pour it out into the yard, and as he turned back to the room, he noticed a camera sitting on the corner of a nearby table.

He had confiscated it from Kiyone earlier, when she had insisted she had to take multiple pictures of him for an SWA project. Distractedly, he set the teapot down and picked up the camera, taking a peek through the lens finder. He scanned the room before Unohana's face came into the frame, serene, and beautifully framed by the soft curls of her unbound hair. Ukitake snapped a photo.

Setting the camera back down, Ukitake suddenly felt a little sheepish. He had managed to convince Unohana to give him a picture of her, many years ago, under the pretense that if he had her portrait with him at his estate, it would remind him to follow all her instructions when she wasn't there to see him back to health. The picture had featured Unohana with her graceful but business-like smile, trademark braid firmly in place.

He liked his picture much better, the image of Retsu with her unguarded, sleepy smile and wavy hair quite clear in his mind even if he didn't have a print of it.

* * *

Hours later, a brisk knock announced the presence of Ukitake's two Third Seats, each carrying a tray with a bowl of soup, and each jostling the other dangerously.

"I thought you might enjoy some soup, Taicho!" Kiyone exclaimed in a stage whisper.

"And I thought that some soup might help our esteemed Fourth Division captain recover!" Sentarou added, his boast grander and his whisper louder.

"Oh yeah, monkey breath? Well I thought that if you had some soup, Taicho, you would be better energized to care four our _beloved_ Fourth Division captain!" Kiyone declared in what was no longer really a whisper.

Ukitake looked up from the book he was reading to put a finger to his lips as Sentarou opened his mouth to retort.

"How thoughtful you both are," he remarked diplomatically. "Unohana-taicho is still asleep, but if yo leave the soup, I'm sure she will be grateful for it when she awakes."

Kiyone and Sentarou fought to be the first and quietest to get their soup settled on a table near the window, spilling a good portion of each onto the trays and only avoiding waking Unohana because she had taken some of Ukitake's rather powerful cough medicine. The white-haired captain rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he turned back to his book.

"Oh, Taicho?" Kiyone exclaimed as she left her tray. "Can I have my camera back now?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, Kiyone," Ukitake replied, distracted by his book.

The sound of bickering could be heard from the instant the two Third Seats closed the door to the end of the corridor. Ukitake chuckled at their antics, and Unohana blinked a sleepy eye open.

"What's so funny?" she mumbled. "I haven't been talking in my sleep, have I?"

"Oh, no," Ukitake assured her. "My very enthusiastic Third Seats just left us the remains of some soup. I don't know how you managed to sleep through the episode only to be woken up by my laugh."

"I think I was starting to smell the soup," Unohana explained, sitting up. Her hair fell in raven waves around her shoulders, and she blushed lightly as she remember it was not in its usual style. "Actually... it smells like tea. Is that ochazuke?"

Ukitake grinned. "I think Isane may have mentioned to Kiyone how much you enjoy it."

"I suppose it's convenient to have sisters for our subordinates," Unohana remarked as she moved towards the table.

* * *

Kiyone flipped through her pictures, showing Rangiku and Yachiru her progress. "I'm sorry, Matsumoto-fuktaicho! I tried to get some with his kosode off, I even pretended to spill tea on him like you suggested. But he took my camera away and..."

All three women gasped. "And then he took this picture with it?" Matsumoto exclaimed excitedly.

"Is that Unohana-taicho? But her hair!"

"It's perfect, Spaz-chan!" Yachiru chirped.

* * *

A few months later, Ukitake was chuckling as he flipped open the annual Shinigami Yearbook. Of all the years he had purchased a copy, this one had his favorite cover yet, because it featured two of his dearest friends in a position that was likely to make the betting pool concerning their relationship a little more interesting.

Which was good for Ukitake, because having the opportunity to observe the two made him quite confident in the large amount of money he had bet. It was equivalent to putting it in the bank with an insanely favorable interest rate, he figured. And it looked like he might be collecting sooner than he expected.

He skimmed the inner pages, making note of the new recruits to the divisions to see if there were any he should watch for a transfer to the Thirteenth. He skipped most of the gossip, a considerable portion of the book, because whether he wanted to or not, he heard most of it from Shunsui before it made general circulation. Who, in turn, got it from his drinking buddy Matsumoto, who was often causing it.

He got to the candid pictures of shinigami, his favorite part of the yearbook. He was shocked to see a rather familiar picture. He would have to remember to apologize to Unohana later for letting it fall into Kiyone's hands.

In the meantime, he grabbed a scissors from his desk drawer and began to clip the precious snapshot. He would place this new one beside the one she had given him, sitting in a frame on his night table at home. Holding up his prize, Ukitake smiled.

Of all the years he had purchased a yearbook, this was indeed his favorite yet.


	7. Censorship

**Author's Note: This chapter is definitely leaning towards the crack side of things. This includes but is not limited to Ikkaku wearing floral print and Isane having a little crush on Zaraki. I don't know what came over me, but I hope you won't hate me too much after this.**

* * *

The door to the office slowly creaked open, pulled by a pair of furry white paws. A matching pair of furry ears appeared in the doorway.

"Ken-chan? Will you read me a story?"

"Che, Yachiru, I'm trying ta nap. Go bother Byakuya."

"He's doing boring, noble-y stuff."

"Make Yumichika do it."

"He went to the real world with everyone else. Feathers and Pachinko-head, and Boobies and Whitey, and Pineapple and the Chappy girl all went to play with Ichy without us!"

"Ichigo, eh? They coulda told me."

"Right, Ken-chan! It's no fun being left behind. Can we go too?!"

"No."

"But Ken-chan!"

"No."

"Well, read to me then!"

"Yare yare. What do ya want me ta read?"

"The one with the rabid kitties and the frogs that eat people's souls!" Yachiru held up a green hat with large wiggly eyes.

"Ah, c'mon, Yachiru. Not the hat."

"It goes with the story! I wear the kitty hat and you wear the frog one."

"Yer too old for stories with hats."

Yachiru's bottom lip wobbled convincingly, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Please, Ken-chan?"

The large man sighed and sat up from where he had been sprawled on the floor.

"Yer sure Yumichika and Ikkaku are gone?"

"Yep!"

"Alright, alright. But ya remember what I said about not tellin' anyone 'bout this?"

"I won't."

"And ya gotta make those punks do something stupid for leaving ya here with nothing to do."

"Sure thing, Ken-chan!"

* * *

Kiyone and Rukia rolled on the floor, howling with laughter. Matsumoto was doubled over in a fit of giggles, and even Soifon and Nemu were chuckling. Unohana looked politely amused, and Isane was still in too much shock to respond. Nanao, however, was practiced in dealing with the most absurd behavior imaginable, and was simply smiling wryly at the photographs before them.

After several moments, the Shinigami Women's Association had calmed enough to discuss the pictures.

"Well," Nanao declared, "I think the pictures of Ayasegawa in full camouflage gear and Ikkaku in the floral kimono would bring enough money for the yearbook that we could risk it. I'm sure they wouldn't take revenge if Captain Unohana is involved."

"Really?!" Kiyone exclaimed. "I mean, these pictures are a little... awkward."

"Not nearly as bad as Kenpachi in the froggy costume," Soifon retorted.

"Right. We can NOT print that," Nanao said. "Honestly, I don't think Yachiru meant to leave that one with us."

"Aw! But not even Kenpachi could beat Captain Unohana!" Matsumoto complained.

"That doesn't mean he can't catch any of us when she's not around and make us pay for printing that picture!" Rukia fairly squeaked.

"I probably shouldn't be involved," Nemu said meekly. "I wouldn't dare use poisons on a captain, but I don't think Mayuri-sama could be bothered to defend my involvement."

"It is agreed then," Unohana decided. "We will print the pictures of Ayasegawa-san and Madarame-san. If their embarrassment proves too much, perhaps we can compensate them somehow to prevent conflicts. But we will not put the picture of Zaraki-san in the yearbook."

"We should make sure the photo doesn't fall into the wrong hands," Soifon offered. "Burning it would be safest."

"Oh, don't do that," Matsumoto pleaded, "it's just too cute to burn up!"

"Um, what if I hold onto it?" Isane suddenly suggested with a blush.

The SWA members fell silent.

"But what if he finds you with it?" Kiyone asked her sister after a moment of shock.

"I'll be careful," Isane stuttered, "but we shouldn't destroy it. You know... in case Yachiru wants it later, of course."

Nanao picked up the photograph in question and passed it to Isane as if it were on fire, not daring to argue if someone was actually willing to take the risk.

"Now that our yearbook business is concluded," Unohana said, casting a knowing glance at her lieutenant, "we can continue to other SWA matters."

* * *

Yumichika huffed indignantly, turning a rather unbecoming shade of red. "Why, if I ever catch the ugly fools who did this!"

"What are you going on about now?" Ikkaku grumbled. Yumichika tossed the yearbook at him with an enraged cry.

"What the...?!" Ikkaku hollered, jumping up.

The two men looked at each other, and then back at the yearbook.

"YACHIRU!"

* * *

The flaring reiatsu of some very strong, and very angry shinigami was felt by everyone in the SWA long before Ikkaku and Yumichika even neared their meeting room. Yachiru giggled with glee as Unohana and Nanao prepared to diffuse the situation with smooth negotiation and possibly an offer of sake.

They were surprised, then, when the angry spikes of spirit pressure stopped and then slowly dissipated.

* * *

"I've had it with that little twerp!" Ikkaku grumbled as he marched toward the SWA meeting. Houzukimaru was slung menacingly over his shoulder. "The head biting, the goofy baldy nicknames, and the embarrassing tea parties! But showing something like that all around Soul Society - that tears it!"

"Indeed," Yumichika exclaimed. "It was a completely undignified thing to do, printing such an unflattering photo of me. It's not beautiful at all!"

On they marched, shinigami either scurrying out of their way, or staring at them and feeling sympathy for whoever happened to be at their destination.

There were a couple who didn't get out of the way though. Three young women stood by the side of the path and pushed a fourth in front of the Eleventh Squad members.

"Um, ex... excuse me, Madarame-san, Ayasegawa-san. I'm so sorry... but... but do you have a moment to sign my yearbook, please?" The poor girl was quaking as she held up her yearbook, open to the page with the pictures of Ikkaku and Yumichika dressed opposite their usual styles.

Ikkaku pointed his sheathed sword at her. "Are you joking?!" he thundered.

"Nnn... no!" the girl exclaimed. "I just... we just... we all thought you both looked so nice in your photos that we wanted you to sign them for us. I mean, Fifth Seat Ayasegawa looks so fierce, and you, Third Seat Madarame, you look so refined here. But if it's too much trouble..."

Ikkaku and Yumichika looked at each other. These girls thought they looked good in those ridiculous outfits?

"Well, I wouldn't call it beautiful," Yumichika conceded, "but I suppose there is a certain grace to looking ready for battle. I'll sign your yearbooks."

He pulled a pen from his uniform and signed with a flourish in azure ink.

Ikkaku grabbed the pen the first girl offered and scratched his name on all four yearbooks.

The girls thanked Ikkaku and Yumichika, then backed away, smiling and bowing and clutching their yearbooks.

Ikkaku scratched his chin as he watched the girls disappear around a corner.

"Eh, Yumichika?"

"Yes, Ikkaku?"

"You still have that floral kimono?"

* * *

**I'd be open to some suggestions for more yearbook adventures. I can't promise I'll use them all, but I realized I enjoy writing these more than I thought and I could use some fresh ideas.**


	8. Unaware

**Author's Note: Thanks to darkangel1910 for the suggestion - which was a while ago, and I'm just now getting to it. It was rather entertaining to write.**

* * *

"Just let me grab a bottle of sake from my stash, and then we'll go have ourselves a picnic!" Rangiku was telling Hisagi, Kira, and Renji. Her stash happened to be hidden in the Tenth Division office, but it was Saturday, so she didn't count on even seeing Captain Hitsugaya, let alone being scolded by him.

She certainly didn't count on seeing her captain asleep at his desk, snoring lightly with his head resting on his paperwork.

Matsumoto frowned. "I thought Taicho had finished all of our squad's work by Thursday morning. He hasn't yelled at me since then, at least."

Gently tugging on Hitsugaya's collar, she lifted his head off the desk enough to look over his shoulder at what was on the desk.

It wasn't paperwork. Kira turned red. Renji gaped. Hisagi looked like he might have considered taking a swing at the young captain if he had been awake.

Toushirou had been resting his head on a copy of the annual yearbook, it turned out. In particular, the section which featured full-page profiles of all the captains and vice-captains. Specifically, the profile of Matsumoto, which featured a large, glossy photo of Rangiku in the uniform which revealed quite a bit of her remarkable assets.

Assets which, when she let his head fall back to the desk, seemed to perfectly cradle Hitsugaya's peacefully sleeping countenance.

Matsumoto hadn't been quite gentle enough in letting her captain's head back down on the wooden desk, however, and he blinked himself awake.

"Matsumoto! You'd better not be thinking about hanging out in here and causing a ruckus," he declared, taking in the crowd.

Rangiku ruffled his white hair, and he swatted her hand away. "Oh no, Taicho," she cooed, "I just stopped by to grab something and noticed how cute you looked sleeping there. But Taicho?"

"What, Matsumoto?" Toushirou grumbled sleepily.

"If you wanted a picture to keep you company when I'm not in the office, you could have just asked me."

The boy looked confused for a second before glancing at his desk. "What?!" He quickly flipped the yearbook shut. "I was sure the last page I saw was Squad Nine..."

Hisagi raised an eyebrow, and Rangiku threw an arm around his shoulder holding the sake bottle she had retrieved from behind the sofa.

"Whatever you think you saw last," she said to Hitsugaya with a wink, "it was my picture you were drooling over."

"I was not!" Hitsugaya exclaimed. "Now get out!"

Matsumoto leaned strategically over his desk so that the image from the yearbook was about eye-level with him in real life.

"Aw, Taicho, are you sure you don't want to come have a drink with us?" she pouted.

"MATSUMOTO!!"


	9. All Bets Are Off

**Author's Note: I know I haven't updated this in forever, but this chapter snuck into my head today so I thought I'd share it.**

The sunlight was shining far too brightly, even through Hisagi's eyelids. He moaned and threw his arm over his face before realizing that he must be late for the captain's meeting. Sitting up, he thunked his head solidly against the underside of a desk.

"It hurts," he exclaimed, slumping sideways onto the floor. The patch of floor under the desk was cold, and Hisagi wondered absently where his shirt had gotten to as he rubbed his aching head.

The thud woke Kira, who groaned and tried to move his arms, which felt like lead for some reason. A ceramic bottle which had been resting in the crook of his arm clattered to the ground, spilling liquid across the wood floor and onto Kira's bare back. "What the...?"

"Matsumoto!" someone growled from the far corner of the room. Hisagi blinked an eye open to see Renji crumpled into a shirtless, hungover mass.

Hisagi rolled his way out from under the desk. "I knew she was going to get us drunk and leave us to suffer," he muttered, "but why did she steal our clothes?"

"At least she left us some sake," Kira replied, as the alcohol in question pooled around his shoulders, "and our hakama."

"Speak for yourself," Hisagi retorted.

"Whoa, Shuuhei, she really took your pants?" Renji exclaimed, propping himself up on his elbows. "Why would she take just yours?"

Kira sat up, squealing embarrassingly as the sake dripped across a scrape on his back, stinging horribly. "Actually, I think I remember you betting Matsumoto a bottle of sake that you could fold a paper crane out of them," he explained.

"No wonder I'm so drunk," Hisagi mumbled from where he was using the desk to pull himself to his feet.

"What do you mean?" Renji exclaimed, then, wincing and lowering his voice, "there's no way you can do that!"

"A bottle of sake says I can," Hisagi retorted.

"You're on!" Renji replied.

"You're going to have to find your hakama before you can make a bet like that," Kira objected. "And before you can go to the captain's meeting in five minutes."

"Shit!" Hisagi exclaimed. "Renji, lend me yours!"

"No way!"

"Come on, Renji, take it off!"

"Take Kira's hakama!"

"I have to go too," Kira objected, "My squad doesn't have a captain either."

"Anyway, he's too small; it won't fit!" Hisagi lunged clumsily at Renji, seizing his obi. "Give it to me!"

"Oh my!" a voice came from the doorway, accompanied by a flash. "I'm sorry to interrupt whatever you boys are up to," Matsumoto sang, waving a camera. "But taicho said if I took you out drinking last night, I had to make sure you got to the meeting on time. But Shuuhei-san, you're not going to go like that, are you?"

"MATSUMOTO!" the men yelled in unison.

* * *

---------- A few weeks later ----------

* * *

Kira held onto the arm of the couch in the Eighth Division's office for support as he dragged himself up. "And I thought drinking with Matsumoto-san was bad," he grumbled.

"At least I still have my hakama this time," Hisagi said with considerable relief.

"At least I don't have to go to those stupid early morning captains' meetings," Renji gloated groggily from a corner.

"I wish I was really a captain so I could have a lieutenant to take me home after a night of drinking before the captains' meetings," Hisagi added.

"Whatever," Kira retorted. "Somehow Kyouraku's always late anyways."

"'Cause Lieutenant Ise only brings him home," Renji commented, "she doesn't stay the night."

"Well waking up on wood floors sucks. Ise can bring me home and not stay the night any day of the week," Hisagi said.

"I'm afraid Lieutenant Ise has her hands full with just the one drunken shinigami each night, thank you very much." A very peeved-looking Nanao leveled her glasses at the men who were stumbling around her division's office.

"Lieutenant Ise!" the men exclaimed in unison.

* * *

"It was weird that Hinamori didn't come to the meeting," Kira remarked as he and Hisagi filed out of the meeting past a decidedly less hungover Captain Kyouraku.

"Yeah," Shuuhei agreed, "but I doubt she was out drinking herself silly last night. Think maybe she's sick?"

"I guess we'd better go check."

"Sure, but after that, I'm going home to take a nap."

"Me too. Breakfast, and then a nap."

The two lieutenants walked to Hinamori's quarters and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

"Hinamori-san, are you alright?" Kira called. There was silence. He looked over at Shuuhei, who shrugged and reached for the door. Sliding it open, they entered the dark room to find Hinamori soundly asleep. Kira knelt next to her and gently placed a hand on her forehead. "She's got a fever," he reported.

"And no wonder," Hisagi replied with a low chuckle. "Look!"

Kira turned to where Shuuhei was standing near the far wall. On a bookcase, a copy of the annual yearbook lay open with a page torn out. On the wall above the bookcase, the page was taped haphazardly. It was a picture of Kira, Shuuhei, and Renji, sleeping shirtless on the floor of the 9th Division office. There was a giant black origami crane next to Shuuhei.

Kira blushed brightly, his jaw dropping as he looked back at Hinamori's sleeping form. Hisagi was barely containing his laughter, and the girl was beginning to stir.

"Let's go!" Kira exclaimed in a panic. They scrambled out of the room and just managed to slide the door shut before Hisagi broke out laughing.

"Let's go buy a copy of the yearbook!" he exclaimed.

Kira stared at him, horrified. "Why?!"

"Because Abarai owes me a bottle of sake!"


End file.
